


Ashes

by LotheringHeights (redseeker)



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 07:23:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2016156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redseeker/pseuds/LotheringHeights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyna Mahariel is haunted by her experience in the Gauntlet, Alistair offers his support.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ashes

It was a mild night, but nonetheless Lyna Mahariel huddled in her tent beneath her thickest blanket. They were on their way back to Redcliffe from Haven, and the little bag of ashes was stowed carefully in the middle of her pack.

She curled up on her bedroll and watched the indistinct play of firelight upon her tent wall. Occasionally shadows moved, her companions still awake and moving around. Lyna hadn't had much appetite for the rabbits they had caught, or the stale bread left-over from Denerim. She'd made her excuses and retired early. She'd been feeling nauseous since the Gauntlet.

Lyna closed her eyes, and Tamlen's face appeared before her. He had offered her forgiveness, but it was more than she could give herself.

She put on a tough face around the others. She had fallen into the position of leader – or rather, Alistair had pushed her into it – but she felt she had stepped up to it as well as she could. She had to project an image of strength. Morrigan and Sten followed her out of obligation, Zevran for protection, but Leliana and Alistair looked up to her. Together, they were all that was left to stand against the darkspawn, and Lyna knew that if she faltered now, it might mean all of Ferelden's destruction.

She wiped her eyes. She hadn't realised the tears had come.

She was but one person. An experienced hunter, but that was all. Duncan had given her no special training, and whatever else she'd learned since leaving her clan she had picked up on the road.

She curled up on herself, lying on her side. She kept her eyes closed, and pretended she were somewhere else. Memories of a happier time flitted through her mind, her life with her clan when her only responsibilities were to her kinsmen, her only duties to protect the camp and put food upon the tables. That life felt like a half-forgotten dream.

She stilled as she heard a rustling outside her tent. Her hand reached for her dagger, but then Alistair's voice broke the silence.

“Um... Lyna? Are you awake?” He was speaking in a half whisper. Lyna let out a slow sigh of relief, and left her dagger where it was.

“I am. What is it?” Her voice sounded even and steady. Relieved, she sat up and wiped her face with her sleeve.

“Can I... can I come in?” Alistair said.

“Come on in.” When Alistair hesitated, she shook her head and said, “Don't worry, I'm decent.”

The tent flap was pulled back, and Alistair crouched in the opening. He was still in his mail. Lyna gestured for him to enter.

He crawled in, chose a spot near the door, and sat.

“What is it?” Lyna said. She hoped the red of her eyes wasn't noticeable in the amber-tinted dark.

Alistair's gaze was intent, concerned. “I just... wanted to talk to you, I suppose. You disappeared so quickly after dinner, I didn't get the chance.”

Lyna looked away. She pushed a hand through her hair, only now realising she had let it down.

“I just wanted some peace,” she said. She tried to keep the bite out of her tone. She was sometimes blunt, even rude, to the other shemlen she met, but she was... softer, around Alistair. He bruised easily, and his heart was too soft for a man of his years. The worst part was she found she cared.

“...It's the Gauntlet, isn't it?” Alistair asked. She looked at him sidelong and silently cursed. She nodded. “Do you... want to talk about it?” Alistair said. He shrugged, a slight colour rising to his cheeks. “I mean, you were so understanding about Duncan, and Goldanna, and-... you really helped me a lot. I just wondered if I could do the same for you. I know-... Well. I got the impression...”

“...Go on,” Lyna said, bone-weary.

“...Who was Tamlen?”

Lyna swallowed. It felt like there was something blocking her throat, and her eyes prickled with tears all over again. She tensed her jaw and didn't let anything show.

“Just what the spirit said,” she said. “A blood brother. A friend... a friend I failed.” She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. She felt strangely vulnerable, and she didn't like that. She frowned. “There's no story to tell,” she said.

Alistair held up his hands. “You don't have to tell it if you don't want to.” He sounded so damned earnest as well, Lyna actually believed him.

She sighed. She ought to relax. If there was anyone out here in this tainted world she could trust, it was him. They were in it together, the last Wardens of Ferelden, after all.

He was looking away now, probably taking her silence for a dismissal. She took a deep breath.

“We were out hunting,” she began. Alistair turned back, and watched her. Lyna kept her eyes down and forced the words out. It felt like an exorcism – maybe if she could tell what had happened, the shadow of Tamlen's fate would finally lift from her. “The same as we did every day. Our clan was camped in the Brecilian Forest. We knew the place was dangerous, but so were we. We... found some ruins.”

She looked up to test his reaction. He was looking at her intently, a slight frown on his brow. She ploughed on.

“There was darkspawn in the ruins. We killed them just the same as any other beasts.” She gave a half shrug. “But in the central chamber we found a mirror. It was clean, bright. Tamlen said he saw something move inside it...” She shivered at the unsettling memory. “I told him not to touch it! If he'd only listened to me... if I'd pulled him away...” She slammed her fist down on her bedroll and shook her head. Wishing wouldn't change anything now. “I blacked out, and didn't wake until days later. Duncan had carried me back to camp. He'd saved me... but left Tamlen behind.” The words were hard to force out, the lump in her throat was growing larger. She didn't care that Alistair hated to hear criticism of his precious mentor. “He said he never saw him, but he wouldn't let me search. I should have defied him, should have gone alone...” She closed her eyes and pressed her hands over them. “The Keeper said I should go with him, to join the Grey Wardens... Duncan said it was my only hope to live, to survive the taint...” She couldn't hide the bitterness in her voice now. “He should have told me it was a death sentence, not a cure. I would have stayed.”

There was a long silence. Lyna knew she had said too much. She should have kept her silence.

She looked at her feet. “Before I knew it I was in Ostagar, and your shemlen king was telling me what an easy battle he looked forward to. I thought he was a fool, but I never expected...”

She sighed, looked up, and saw the pain in Alistair's eyes. She felt so drained.

Just as she was about to look away again, tell Alistair he didn't have to stay, the Templar shifted closer to her.

“I'm sorry,” he said. Lyna looked at him in shock. “I... I spent so much time telling you how much pain I was in, complaining... I know I lost it a little after Duncan... well. I just, I'm... sorry. I never stopped to think about how awful everything must seem for you. You were taken away from your home, your life. You never chose to join up, you had no choice, and here I am forcing you to be the leader when it should be me-...”

Lyna held up her hand. “You don't need to apologise,” she said, but she appreciated it all the same. She spent so much time and energy keeping the party co-operative and sympathetic, catering to their needs, and not one of them ever seemed to ask how she was doing. That was leadership, she supposed, but it was a role completely new to her.

Alistair held her gaze and nodded. His face was serious. “I am sorry, though. I'd like you to know... well... that you can talk to me.”

Lyna nodded slowly. “...Thank you,” she said.

“And try to remember,” Alistair said. “Tamlen's spirit said that he forgave you. You should forgive yourself, too.”

The tears returned in an instant, and Lyna was shocked to feel them running down her cheeks before she could stop them. Alistair, Creators bless him, pretended not to see.

She nodded again, and even managed a grateful smile. The knight reached out, cupped her cheek for a moment, and smiled back.

“Right,” he said, his tone abruptly shifting. “Time for me to turn in. I need my beauty sleep, after all.” He grinned, and Lyna watched him crawl from the tent in a light jingling of mail. She shook her head, hunkered down under her blanket, and closed her eyes. Her heart felt lighter, despite her exhaustion, and after lying awake for so long, she felt that now, at least, she would be able to steal some sleep.


End file.
